Shane and Jenny stood in the doorway to a storefront in Venice Beach.  Shane turned to look down the street and then glanced at her watch.

“So do you think there’s anyway that this will be real?”  Jenny asked.

“I dunno,” Shane shook her head and took a drag from her cigarette. 

“You can ask Dana if smoking is allowed in heaven,” Jenny said.

Shane put out her cigarette against the doorframe, then dropped in on the ground and smiled at Jenny.  “That would be something, if I could.”

“Shane, do you believe in heaven?” Jenny asked.

Shane’s glance moved away from Jenny and towards the ocean.  “I do,” Shane answered, as she turned back to face Jenny’s relentless stare, shoving her hands into her pockets.  The friends watched Helena pull up to the curb with Alice in the passenger seat. 

Helena got out of the car and walked over to hug Shane and Jenny.  “Thanks for coming.  Alice is fixing herself up.”  Helena said as the three women watched Alice as she applied make-up to herself, in the car.  “She wants to look good.”

“This is crazy, what are we doing here?”  Shane put her hands over her head.

“I’m not convinced this will work, but fake or fraud, if Alice can have some small belief that Dana is in a happy place, maybe she’ll feel better,” Helena said.

“Shit, I want to feel better too, but I don’t think some fake, bullshit, séance is gonna do it,” Shane said, shaking her head.

MOMENTS LATER

The four women sat around a candle lit table.  They interlocked hands, along with Helena’s psychic, who led the table.

“Bette wanted to come but the new semester…” Shane whispered to Alice.

“Shhhh,” the psychic said.

“Oh, sorry,” Shane said.

“Please close your eyes as we…” the psychic continued.

SOMEWHERE IN HEAVEN

Dana ran across the baseline.

“Dana,” a voice said.

Dana slipped on the grass then netted the ball.  She brushed off her tennis dress, regained her composure and walked off the court.

“First set Langlen,” the chair umpire bellowed out.

Dana reached her bench and sat down next to Mr. Piddles who let out a loud meow.

“I know…she’s using a wooden racket.  I just shouldn’t have had that last Mojito,” Dana said.